


Too Much

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M!LW is assaulted soon after leaving the vault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much

Drew didn't remember much about leaving the Vault. He remembered the staccato bursts of gunfire. He remembered running for his life. He remembered his first glimpse of the sun. His next clear memory was of waking up in Doc Church's office on a Med-X drip. Doc said that they hadn't expected him to survive; they thought he might just drift off. Thought it might be better that way, considering what he'd gone through.

It turned out that "what he'd gone through" was abduction, rape, and torture at the hands of the raiders in Springvale school. Drew had pieced his knowledge of events together from what he'd been told by the Doc and by the caravaners that had found him, mangled and bleeding.

He'd left the Vault. That much he remembered. He had headed northeast, through the ruins of Springvale. He'd encountered a group of Raiders, and he'd either fought and lost to them, or maybe he'd just gone with them quietly. "You wouldn't have known any better," Doc Church had said, gruffly. "Education you get down there, you don't know not to trust people."

Willing or unwilling, they had taken him back to their school ( _their lair,_ Drew thought). At some point, he had sustained a head injury, forgotten a lot of what happened. Probably for the best, all things considered.

They had bound him, hand and foot. He had open sores on his wrists and ankles, skin sloughed off, souvenirs of the cord they'd used to bind him. They had beaten him with chains. He had 11 broken ribs and his torso was a map of bruises and cuts; each breathe felt like a iron hands squeezing his lungs. They had raped him. Fucked him raw, used every hole.

After he woke up, Doc Church started him on antibiotics. "No way to know what you might have caught from them," he said, solemnly. He offered a cup of water and a small, white capsule. "At least you're not pregnant," he said, and he laughed.

(Later, Drew asked why they hadn't given him the antibiotics intravenously before he woke up, Church said they hadn't wanted to waste the drugs on someone who might not wake up. "These are rare, more precious than gold," he growled. "You have to salvage them from Vaults. We can't go giving them out to every idiot who might need them." Drew resented the insult, couldn't bring himself to say so.)

The damage was extensive. Concussion, torn tendons in his arms and legs ("you must have fought like hell," Church said, a note of approval in his voice), broken ribs, blackened eyes, split lip. Burns and lacerations all over his body, from cigarette lighters and switchblades. It must have been a game to them, torturing him.

"You'll survive," Doc Church had said, emotionlessly.

And he did. He couldn't sleep for fear that someone was coming for him. He didn't remember what it felt like to be safe. He had panic attacks, lost track of time. He sometimes thought he remembered things, details from the assault--they had broken his glasses, had called him a _sissy fag queer_ , had called him _easy pickins_ , had laughed--but he couldn't be sure what was fact and what was a product of his feverish imagination.

He recovered, physically. Learned to shoot, took lessons from Stockholm and Lucas Simms and Jericho, when he was in a good mood. He started running errands for Moira, finding little ways to make himself useful around town. One of the traveling merchants brought him a dog, a mutt they'd found in a junkyard on the other side of the Potomac. "Answers to Dogmeat," she'd said. "He's yours if you want him." Dogmeat was a good boy, helped Drew get through his darkest nights. Gradually, he started to feel human again

Eventually, Drew left Megaton, Dogmeat at his heels. He travelled east (avoiding Springvale and the damned school and the damned raiders) then south, looking for his dad. It was what he'd meant to do when he left the Vault, before his encounter with the raiders. Along the way, he freed slaves and slaughtered Supermutants, began to build up a reputation. Some nights, he wondered if the raiders had a radio, if they heard Three Dog's broadcasts, whether or not they'd made the connection between the frightened boy they'd abducted and the last, best hope of humanity.

He found his way to Galaxy News Radio, then to Dr. Li in Rivet City, then to Project Purity's headquarters in the Jefferson Memorial. He tracked his father to Vault 12, wept when he climbed out of the isolation chamber to find Dogmeat, barking and whining in concern. His dog, standing alongside his father.

It was all too much.


End file.
